


By Your Side

by Tarnist (Titarnia), Titarnia



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: And I'm also leaving Desmond even more broken than before, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Apple of Eden (Assassin's Creed), Because it might not be shown but it's there inside Desmond, Because of Reasons, Declarations Of Love, Depression, Desmond Miles Lives, Desmond Miles Needs a Hug, Don't Judge, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, I suddenly decided to make Altaïr frustrated and sad, I'm Sorry, I'm not really gonna kill someone, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Memory Loss, Might as well add those to this piping hot mess, Not a real life person anyways, Please Don't Kill Me, Post Death Depression, Protective Ezio Auditore da Firenze, Self-Harm, sorry - Freeform, what am I even doing at this point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:29:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23161750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titarnia/pseuds/Tarnist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titarnia/pseuds/Titarnia
Summary: Death comes as a given. For Desmond, it's because he just saved the fucking world.But what happens after death. And by God, why isn't he dead?!?!Desmond is left with more questions than answers, and he doesn't agree with it.
Relationships: Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad/Desmond Miles, Ezio Auditore da Firenze/Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, Ezio Auditore da Firenze/Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad/Desmond Miles, Ezio Auditore da Firenze/Desmond Miles
Comments: 10
Kudos: 144





	1. At Death's Door

_**Chapter 1 - At Death's Door** _

If this was death, than he welcomed it. He couldn't remember when he was last half in such a warm embrace, when he was last cared for like this. He welcomed it all. He felt a hand move slowly over his cheeks, resting only on his forehead to check his temperature. I let out a silent, disagreeing, grunt when the hand and the warmth left him. He wanted to tell it to come back, to stay with him and not abandon him. But he couldn't voice his thoughts. 

And then everything began to hurt. 

He felt like his arm was burning. His throat dry and hurting from screaming out in pain. His shoulder, from a wound that hasn't been his. His side, a place where an old friend from a long list childhood had slot him open in the training grounds. Not his wound either. His head hurt like Hell. That, I knew, was his own pain. Not a pain from a wound made on another man, hundreds of years ago. But still he felt them, like had it been his own. 

He was running. Jumping from one rooftop to the next. He was running through Florence and was joined by a brother. Mid jump the rooftops changed. They were in Jerusalem. Running. Jumping. Joined by yet another brother. Straight ahead, a tower from Florence cast a shadow over them. He ran, jumped, and crawled his way to the top. The other two following right behind him. He reached the roof, and without missing a beat he leapt off of the roof and landed in a haystack. The others followed, and now they were running along the streets of Venice, then Arce, Rome, Monteriggioni, Masyaf. Up to Masyaf Castle. Scaling up the walls. To three platforms. Taking a Leap Of Faith as a single being, the three brothers jumped and landed. He got up, the others waited for him to move. He was to lead them to their destination. They weren't far. They ran, back in Jerusalem. To Venice, Monteriggioni, Arce, Jerusalem. They ended up back in Florence. Running underground to secret tombs. Then they were in the sanctuary under Monteriggioni. There they stopped. There they reached their destination at last. 

Catching their breaths, the three looked at each other. They knew each other. Like you would know your lover. Because they were. They loved each other with all of their being. They lived for the days, were they could spend time together. Reaching out his hands, grasping for his two lovers. Three people, loving each other through time. People, brothers, who did not come from the same time. Their time together was always sparse. But the managed. Because they loved. When he awoke he was pressed in between two strong, yet fragile, beings. He loved them, and knew that they loved him in return. He closed his eyes and time was forgotten. 

The pain in his arms was a wake-up call he could have lived without. Why did it hurt so much, when he was supposed to be dead. Hadn’t they told him, hadn’t they figured out. He had to die, in order to save the world from the solar flair. Then, why was his arm burning. Why did he feel like throwing up. It was too warm, then too cold. Was he having a fever, while he was supposed to be dead. Nothing is true, meaning the pain he felt was a concept created by his brain because something was wrong. Everything is permitted, meaning what exactly. What part of all of this, was permitted. He was permitted to question what was going on. He _hadn’t_ been permitted to actually die. Or was death just an illusion, and when you died you actually lived on with all the pain still there. Time is an abstract concept created by lesser men, to undervalue greater men. God in an abstract concept created by man, because they needed a being to look to for their blessings and their failures. 

  
There was something missing. He couldn’t exactly tell what was missing. But something was. Warmth. That was what he was missing. The warmth of two bodies against his own. He missed them. But he was supposed to be dead. _They_ were supposed to be dead. That was just great. He was dead, but apparently still conscious enough to miss his lovers, who are also dead. Death was, in all honesty, a huge disaster.


	2. Living Again

**_Chapter 2 - Living Again_ **

When he was finally capable of opening his eyes. He didn't understand where he was. Why everything hurt. Who he was. He understood nothing. It was dark outside. That much he knew. He could see outside from where he was lying, on the floor perhaps. He didn’t know. A man came in. Clad in white. His head was shrouded in shadow from the beak of his hood. The man looked down at him with sad eyes that shone through the shadows. 

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” The man asked, kneeling down and helping him sit up. A blanket of some sort was draped over his body, probably to keep him warm throughout the night. He shook his head. He didn’t know who the man was, but there was something familiar about him. Something that drew him closer to the man. He lifted a hand, and placed it on the man’s cheek. He held it there, hoping that it might give him some answers to what his heart was telling him. The man took hold of his hand, and gently removed it. The man heaved a heavy, and sad, sigh before standing back up. Another man came storming into the room, his hair longer than the first. His expression was that of confusion, hurt, worry and sadness. The first man shook his head at the second. And the second man looked over at him with even more sadness than before. What had he done, to make these two men look so sad. 

The world stopped breathing that night

As time went on, he was left with more questions than answers. Who were the two men, why were they taking such good care of him. And why, _why_ , did they look so sad every time they looked at him. It just wasn’t right. He didn’t know their names, they never talked when with him. He _knew_ that he should know them. he just didn’t remember them. He would give _anything_ to remember. He didn’t even know who he was himself. He was able to stand, but not completely without help. He had taken to writing, that much he knew he could do. But the language confused him. He didn’t know it, didn’t _remember_ it. The two men seemed to know it, to understand it. So that was something. He wasn’t sure about his voice, he didn’t think he would be able to speak at all. His throat was always so dry, no matter how much water he drank. One day, he overheard the two men talking. He was sitting by the window while they were outside, doing whatever they did when not taking care of him.

“It wasn’t love, it was a perfect illusion.” Said the first man, he sounded angry and sad. Why was his love a perfect illusion. That didn’t make any sense. 

“Do not speak of it like that. He does not even remember who he is himself. Do not blame him for what the artifact and that woman did to him.” The second man said. Why were they talking about him, had he been someone important in their life. Had he loved them? Was that what was pulling him towards them whenever they got close. Was that why he wanted to ease their pains. I was hard to understand. Even harder to try and find a meaning in. Who was the woman they talked about. Why didn’t they talk to him about anything. He was tired. Tired of being awake, and tired of all these questions. He had taken to writing them all down. But the two men did not answer them, they probably didn’t know how. 

_“Don’t ever forget me. Please.”_

Why didn’t he want to be forgotten. Why was he so desperate to be remembered by these two men. They held no answers for him, and neither did his dreams. He would never be able to run on the rooftops like he had done in his dreams. Jumping down from a tall tower, that was straight out suicide. Yet he felt like he could do it. Lately, his arm pained him a great deal. I had been burned. From the tip of his fingers, all the way to his shoulder. 

“Will I ever be capable of loving.” He found himself saying out loud one day. The first man had left, so it was only him and the second man in the room.

“You are _not_ incapable of love, my dearest. You just don’t know _how_ to love.” The man answered. Having heard his silent question. 

“Who am I.” he dared to ask. His voice no more than a whisper as the man got him a cup filled with water. 

“You are the best thing, I never knew i needed.” The man answered with the saddest smile he had ever seen on the man’s face.

“Then why do I make you look so miserable.” He said, as he looked down at the cup. And took a mouthful of the water in his mouth. He should know why he feels the way he does. But he doesn’t. 

“Because we care for you.” The first man says, as he closes the door behind him. 

“Why.” He can’t stop. He needs to know why these two men are so special to him. Why _he_ is so special to _them_.

“Because, you are the one we love.” The second man says in a quiet, almost unnoticeable voice. How could anyone love him. He was a nobody. He didn’t deserve to be loved. Why would they love him. Why.

“Who am I.” He asks again. Still not looking at either of them. Only at the, now empty, cup in front of him. 

“You are the one who saved the world. You are the love of our lives. You, are Desmond Miles from the year 2012. You are important. And you are alive.” 

_Desmond Miles_

_2012_

_The end of the world_

_The solar flare_

_Ezio Auditore da Firenze_

_Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad_

He knew who he was. He knew who they were. Ezio Auditore da Firenze and Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad. His ancestors. His lovers. The two people he loved above anything else. He sat still. Tears streaming down both cheeks as Altaïr stood by his side. How could he have forgotten. He loved these two men to the moon and back. How could he have forgotten them so easily. They meant everything to him. He was suddenly embraced by two pairs of strong arms from either side. Ezio had gotten up from his seat from across from him. And both men were now embracing him, as he silently broke down in confused, sad and angry sobs. How could he have forgotten them. He hated himself for it. Hated Juno. Hated Minerva. Hated the Precursors. Hated everything but these two men who were embracing him tightly. Afraid that he might actually break.


	3. Loving Someone Is Hard

**_Chapter 3 - Loving Someone Is Hard_ **

The next morning he went outside. He was in a city he remembered well. He was in Jerusalem, but what year. There was still so many things he didn’t know. So many things, he wanted to understand. He wanted to know, why Altaïr kept his distance. As if he was afraid to be burned, if he got too close. But Desmond wasn’t a fire, he was hardly even a spark. He would never burn Altaïr. Never. Some nights, the man would hold him close. Afraid he might once again be lost. But Desmond wasn’t going anywhere. He had nowhere to go. 

“Why can’t you just tell me how you feel, because how you act is confusing me.” He asked Altaïr, as the man joined him on the rooftop. The building was small. But at least there was a roof to go up on. The Assassin by his side said nothing, only looked out over Jerusalem. 

“I do not fully know.” Comes the answer, but only after a long time of silence.

“That does not help me, Altaïr.” He says with a sigh. And leaves. Why can’t Altaïr just tell him how he actually feels. It was confusing, and it hurt worse than his arm sometimes. Going inside didn’t give him answers either. Ezio was out for the day, who knew what he was doing. And he didn’t feel like talking more to Altaïr. At least not for a while. So he sat down and wrote his thoughts. Transferring his thoughts to paper, was much easier than he would have initially thought. 

_ But you have fallen for hands, not worthy of your skin.  _

_ You have fallen for a mind, that will never understand your value. _

_ You have fallen for a heart, incapable of loving you the way you need.  _

_ What we love, what  _ you  _ love, should feel like paradise during a storm.  _

_ The person you love should feel like stillness during an earthquake.  _

_ But you’ve fallen for someone, who will never be able to be brave enough to fall for you _ .

It was hard. Because he really did care for the two men. But sometimes it felt like they loved him more than he deserved. He should be dead my now. Or not even born yet. The Apple made everything so... Confusing. He was scared. He felt it, deep inside him. A scared kid who didn’t know what was happening. Who just wanted everything to stop. He was sitting on the floor, he liked sitting on the floor. But now, even the floor seemed to be turning against him. He curled up. Embracing his legs and holding them close. His forehead was against his knees, His hair had grown. It was almost as long as Ezio’s. He had to go. Had to leave. Had to get away from things that hurt. This place hurt. Everything about it hurt. He had to get away. As far away as possible. 

So he ran. Out of the house. Out of Jerusalem. How he got out of Jerusalem, he didn’t know. But he got out. And he was alone still. It was getting dark, yet still he walked away from the looming city of Jerusalem. Still he was fleeing. But what was he fleeing from. He had been fleeing from Altaïr, who couldn’t even tell him his true feelings. From the house that hurt, from everything in Jerusalem. Yet he still felt like he was fleeing. 

“Nobody wants me. Not even myself.” He whispered out into the cold night air. What would he do if somebody decided to attack him. He didn’t have any weapons. Granted, he knew how to land a mean punch. But that was as far as he could go with no real weapons. He would just have to be lucky. Either he didn’t end up getting attacked, or he would be able to disarm an attacker and take their weapon. Neither sounded promising. Being left completely alone with the thoughts of getting attacked, or actually getting attacked and most definitely ending up dead. All he wanted to do, was curl up and disappear. he hadn’t asked to be brought back to life, and back in time. He hadn’t asked to suddenly be thrown into the life of a Master Assassin. And then being threatened by Templars only to be put through the life of another Master Assassin. Only to find out that it was almost the end of the world. If anything, he wanted it all to just  _ end _ . 

“Kill me now, because I’m done saving myself!” He shouted out towards the sky. As if some ancient God or deity could hear him. He was done. Done trying to someone he was not. He was a fucking  _ bartender _ , not an Assassin. Not the saviour of the world. He was just Desmond Miles. A fucking bartender. 

In the end, he ended up falling asleep in a stack of hay. He had walked far. He was tired and hungry, but mostly tired. From running away, from walking through the night. And from overthinking everything. 

“You’ll be the death of me.” A voice whispered in his ear, as he was gently lifted up into a warm embrace. He could feel something draped over his body, as he was placed on a horse in someone else's arms. 

“You know we’re always here for you, right?” Came another voice, from right behind him. He didn’t care much for anything else. He was being held by a strong arm around his waist. He was being pressed against the chest of Altaïr. Because he knew the voices. Ezio had picked him up, and Altaïr was holding him tight. Making sure he didn’t fall off the horse. He didn’t try to figure out how they had found him. They were two Master Assassins. Whatever they set their mind to find, they would find it. Not that he had done anything to try and hide from anyone. He had just needed to get away. To exhaust himself. That was what he had needed. The drag himself to the point of exhaustion. 

When he woke up again, he was back in the house in Jerusalem. But this time he didn’t wake up alone like he had done so many other mornings. This time, he was pressed securely in between the naked bodies of Altaïr and Ezio. He sat up, trying not to wake the two Assassins. But he knew they were already awake. They just pretended not to be. Either way. He got up and out of bed in search of his robes. Where had they put them. 

“Come back to bed.” Altaïr muttered into the pillow as he looked at Desmond.

“Bring your pretty little butt over here.” Ezio joined in, reaching out towards Desmond. Heaving a sigh, he took hold of Ezio’s hand and let the man drag him back under the covers. 

“Can I kiss you?” The Italian Assassin asked, pressing his lips to Desmond’s temple. 

“Why couldn’t you. I never told you not to.” He answered, humming into Ezio’s lips, as the Assassin pressed kissed him. Altaïr just snuggled closer. Drawing Desmond into his embrace.

“Your lips are so soft, I could kiss them all day.” Ezio muttered as he kissed Desmond once again.

“You know... If you wanted sex, you could have asked.” Desmond hummed, as both Master Assassins caressed his body with their hands. 

“Where’s the fun in asking.” Altaïr’s ruff voice came from his left, as Ezio hummed in agreement from his right. There was nothing he could do about that. He was at the mercy of two Master Assassins. What a morning. 

“You two are idiots.” He said, as pleasure began to overtake him. His body tensed with delight at their touches, and his mind went blank with pleasure. How he adored them. Absolutely adored them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~*~*~*~  
> SharonLight... I too, as the writer of this story, is as confused as you are. Which probably isn't as good an idea as it sounds.  
> ~*~*~*~  
> I am basically basing this fic on... I don't really know, and some 'Writing Prompt One Liners' I find on Pinterest. Most of what any of they say, so far, has come from one of those. I have a whole list, and I just added a whole page more. 
> 
> So I have basically no understanding either, of what is going on or what might end up happening.
> 
> Enjoy.


	4. Time For The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this whole fic turned out more angsty than I had intended. But here we are. 
> 
> Enjoy

**Chapter 4 - Time For The Truth**

They spend most of the day in bed. Ezio and Altaïr holding him close and whispering sweet nothings to him. There was still so many things he wanted answers to. Like, why did these two men love him the way they did. He was a nobody from nowhere. Granted, he was their descendant. But that still wasn’t a clear enough answer. They were two of the greatest Assassins of all time. And somehow they had both chosen  _ him _ as their lover. 

“I told you not to fall in love with me.” He whispered to them. But, as always, they ignored his opinion on the matter of their love. They kept whispering words of love, but he had had enough. The bed was getting stuffy. So he got up, and without thinking too much about it, but on the clothes closest to him. Which happened to be a combination of Ezio’s pants and Altaïr’s robes and hood. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that right?” Ezio muttered as he lifted himself up from the bed to get a better look. 

“I’m not sure if its a sexual thing or not.” He mutters as he looks down at himself, and the shrugs and goes to get something to eat. In the meantime, both Ezio and Altaïr gets dressed. The just find some spare clothing in a closet. Whatever. Not his problem. They could have just  _ not _ hidden his clothes, they wouldn’t have had to find something new for themselves. Embracing him from behind, Ezio drags him away and Altaïr starts making food for all three of them. Would you look at that, the Master Assassin can cook. 

Why was he here. It wasn’t the first time he had thought about it. By all means, he should be long dead. He died saving the world, in the future. It still hurt. Being close to them both. After eating, Ezio had kissed him and left for the day. Whatever kind of job he had here in Jerusalem, Desmond really didn’t want to know. So, once again, he was left alone with Altaïr.

“You can’t keep it all inside, you know. Bottling it up won’t do any good...” Altaïr said. His arms embracing him and drawing him in close. 

“You still confuse me, Altaïr” He whispers as the man places his forehead on his shoulder from behind. It was nice. They were standing outside on the roof, overlooking Jerusalem once again.

“I think I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified.” Altaïr whispers, holding on even tighter than before. 

“Were you ever going to tell me?” He asks. What was he expecting from the Assassin behind him. An open love confession?!? Highly unlikely. The man had never proclaimed his love before, and even then it had left a bit of confusion in him. 

“I don’t think I would ever be able to. It just never feels right.” The Assassin answers in a low voice, placing a kiss to his neck. Altaïr’s voice is rough, but it is a beautiful roughness. It’s reassuring. 

“You deserve so much better.” He says, giving up on trying to get any more words of confession out of the man behind him.

“You are what I deserve, Desmond. What Ezio and I deserve. The Apple placed you both with me, I am not letting go of either of you.” Turning him around, Altaïr locks their eyes. He’s unable to look away from Altaïr’s eyes. It’s like they are piecing deep into his very soul. Closing his eyes, he leans into the man and is embraced once again by the Master Assassin. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” He whispers as his head is lifted up, and Altaïr’s lips are sealed on his own. Despite everything, Altaïr has really soft lips. Soft and sweet. Like a forbidden fruit that was never meant to be tasted by mortal man. 

A lot of things still confused him. And it probably didn’t help that he felt like he had PTSD. It felt more like Post Death Depression to be honest. But it still didn’t help in his confusion. It had made him run away more times than he was happy to count. 

“Why do you run away from your problems all the time?” Altaïr asked one morning after they had, once again, been out searching for him. Every time he ran, he got further and further away. But it was always the same path. 

“Please talk to us about it.” Ezio joined in as the Assassin picked him up and placed him between his legs to better embrace him. The three of them were still naked from their night of pleasure. 

“I’m sorry. I want to tell you, I just don’t know how. All I have is questions. And every day, more and more questions arise. I feel like I don’t deserve you, either of you. And that the two of you are wasting your time on me.” He says, leaning his head back against Ezio’s chest. Altaïr sits down behind Ezio, placing his arms on Ezio’s shoulder so his hands reach Desmond’s shoulders. 

“Hey, we know you are still hurting. But.. you are not alone, okay?” Altaïr says, reaching up and stroking Desmond’s cheek with the backside of his hand. 

“I know.” He whispers, leaning into the touch from the Master Assassin. When they all finally got out of the bed and got dressed, he saw the Apple lighting up from its place on the table. 

“Been lighting up like that for days.” Ezio said when the Assassin noticed him looking at it.

“I’m gonna touch it.” He declares. And goes and does so. 

What he witnessed, was not something he enjoyed seeing. He saw himself die, being transported here together with Ezio. The Assassin holding on to his, presumably, dead body. And then he drew a deep breath and let out pained moans. Altaïr came for them, being called towards them by the Apple. The two Master Assassins taking care of him, while he didn’t even remember them. Their sadness and the thought that they had lost him. It left a silent tear stream down his cheek when he saw them like that. 

“I almost just died, and now you’re telling me I’m the prophet of God? Are you sure you have the right person?” He asked the Apple after it had shown him, once again, saving the world. It had to stop. It all had to stop. He did  _ not _ want to sacrifice his life once again, for a world he didn’t even belong to anymore. So he ran. He ran and ran and ran. Out of the house, out of Jerusalem. Further than he had ever gone before, the two Master Assassins right behind him. Calling for him. Wanting him to stop and come back. But he couldn’t hear them. Didn’t want to ge back. Didn’t want to be close to the Apple. Wanted to disappear. Wanted the Apple to disappear. Finally he stopped, and Altaïr got hold of him and turned him around. The Assassin was angry, that much was clear. 

“What the hell is your problem?!” Altaïr shouted at him. Shaking him and demanding an answer. 

“Altaïr! Calm down!” Ezio shouted, tearing the Assassin away from him. 

“I’m... Sorry...” He said, tears spilling down his cheeks. Because he was. He didn’t understand why he had run away like that. 

“Sorry doesn’t cut it!” Altaïr shouted. Ezio had to hold him back, or he would have punched Desmond. He didn’t know what to do about it. Still sobbing, he fell to his knees and kept on crying. He didn’t want to be the saviour again. He wanted to be left alone. 

“ALTAÏR!!” Ezio shouted and smacked his fellow Assassin in the face. Altaïr fell down, and was suddenly embracing him.

“I’m sorry Desmond. I’m so, so sorry.” Altaïr whispered as he held him close and tried to dry away his tears. “We are not going to leave you. You're never going to have to suffer by yourself again, I promise.” The Master Assassin tried to reassure him. He wanted to believe Altaïr’s words. He really did. Ezio sat down as well, and embraced him. 

“We are here for you, Desmond. Don’t worry.” He whispered placing a kiss on his neck. They kept whispering reassuring words. But they didn’t stick. And they knew that. Yet still they tried. 

“Don’t ever do this again, please. If there is anything, anything at all upsetting you. Please talk to us about it. Even if it is only questions.” Altaïr whispered, making him promise to talk to them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Insert Evil Laughter Soundtrack Here*
> 
> *Insert Sad/Hurt/Confused Emotion Here* 
> 
> I AM TRYING MY BEST HERE!!!


	5. Masyaf, A New Home

_**Chapter 5 - Masyaf, A New Home** _

He hadn’t wanted to hurt anybody. It just happened. He was scared, and insecure. But most importantly, he was in love. And that, that hurt  _ him _ more than  _ he _ could ever hurt anybody else. They were traveling to Masyaf and had been attacked. He had killed people. The first was a woman. She had swung her sword towards Altaïr, and he reacted on instinct. The next thing he knew, the woman lay dead at his feet. The next one was a man who had almost severed Ezio’s arm if he hadn’t sliced the man’s head off first. Two men had then attacked him, the first one fell with his intestines spread out across the ground and the second died trying to stop the blood from seeping out of his throat. The two Mater Assassins hadn’t even been given the time to react before all their attackers were dead at his feet. They had been taking a break, so none of them were on horseback, and the attack had come so sunnely. The two Master Assassins ran to him and examined him for any injuries.

“Desmond, love, are you hurt?” Ezio asked, running a hand over Desmonds cheek while holding his hand. Altaïr was slowly taking the sword out of his hand, not wishing for anyone else to be hurt. 

“I’m fine. I...” And then his world became black, and he felt himself leaning into Ezio’s embrace before being lifted up. When he awoke, he could feel the two Master Assassins. Ezio was sleeping on his left with an arm laid protectively over his stomach. Altaïr was sitting up on his right, his head in the Master Assassin’s lap and the man’s arms relaxingly laid on his shoulders and across his chest. 

“Morning, sunshine.” Ezio whispers as the Assassin sits up to look down at him.

“Morning.” He whispers back, earning a kiss from the Italian Master Assassin. Still laying with his head in Altaïr’s lap, he looks up and meets the piercing amber eyes of his Arabian ancestor. 

“How are you feeling?” The Assassin asks, not moving from where he is sitting. 

“A bit better, thank you.” He answers, smiling up at the Master Assassin. How he loved them both, and how it hurt him to do so. He didn’t understand why it hurt him so much, some part of him wanted to know and some part of him didn’t. 

They reached Masyaf and was greeted by Malik when they reached the castle. He doesn’t remember much of what happened as he once again blacked out. It seemed to be something his body just did, he didn’t even have any control over it. Waking up in an empty bed, he was missing the warmth of Ezio and Altaïr. His body was panicking. He was shaking, sweating and his mind went completely numb. He knew he was safe, that he had only been left alone because he was asleep. Someone came into the room, trying to sneak up on him. His body wouldn’t listen to him and just kept shaking as the Assassin came closer. 

“This will only hurt for a second.” The man whispers, taking hold of him so he doesnt move away. Not like he could move even if he wanted to. Looking into the eyes of the man about to kill him, he feels abandoned by everyone. He’s alone, scared and unable to move as the knife is lifted before being slammed into his chest. The hand with the knife was stopped just before it pricked at the skin on his chest. Looking up to se Ezio standing with the Assassin’s hand gripped tight in his own, he heaved out a sigh and felt like crying. 

“Don’t fucking touch what isn’t yours.” Ezio said, his voice low and filled with danger. Twisting the Assassin’s arms around, Ezio made the man scream out in sudden pain as he dropped the knife on the floor. 

“Desmond!” He heard Altaïr exclaim as the man lifted him up and held him close. This felt nice. This felt like home. He felt at home, being held by Altaïr. He began hyperventilating. Taking in breaths that were too short, not being able to breathe properly. Tears started forming in his eyes, and they rolled down his cheeks and into Altaïr’s clothes. He felt Ezio embrace him as well, felt the warmth of both of them.

“Desmond. It’s okay, just focus on my voice. That’s it. You’re okay, we’ve got you now.” Ezio whispered into his ear as he felt his world go dark. Focusing on Ezio’s voice, and Altaïr’s breathing, he began breathing normally again. He could move his body again, and the first thing he did was slowly wrap them around Altaïr’s neck. The Master Assassin lifted him up and walked to a chair. Ezio came over with a blanket and wrapped him up in it so he wouldn't get cold. 

“You are burning up, Desmond.” Altaïr said, placing a hand on his forehead. 

“I do feel a little dizzy.” He mumbled into Altaïr’s neck. It was nice, sitting here. He felt darkness claim him and accepted it's was embrace as he sat there in Altaïr's hold. He was loved. He was so fucking loved, and he had to keep telling himself that he deserved it. That he was worth their love. 

They had been in Masyaf almost a month, when he felt the need to run away again. The constant presence of the fact that he was supposed to be dead, and that he might have failed to save the world, loomed over him. He felt like he couldn’t bother Ezio or Altaïr with it anymore. Trying to sneak out of the castle, he stopped when he heard Ezio and Altaïr talking with Malik.

“Since I met him, he carries more anger and pain than a thousand armies could ever bear. He was betrayed, deceived, hurt. Believe me when I say he has already crossed hell. And the only time I see peace in his eyes, is when he looks at the two of you. You are the only reason he’s still alive.” What Malik said was followed by silence. Looking down at his hands, he noticed tears falling down. Had he really been through so much? Had he really been through hell, and survived? He felt Ezio pick him up and hold him close as Altaïr led them inside. He didn’t remember why he had needed to run away again. He was home. He was where he needed to be, with people who cared about how he felt. Cared about his well being. People who didn’t expect him to save the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically just Desmond finding his place with Ezio and Altaïr, while suffering from PTSD because he died.


	6. Somewhere To Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at that, another chapter.

_**Chapter 6 - Somewhere To Be** _

When he woke up, he was being embraced by Ezio and leaning up against Altaïr. Altaïr was sitting with a book, reading. Ezio was clinging to him like he was a pillow. Altaïr closed his book and hit Ezio’s head with it. This stirred the man awake, and he let go of Desmond. 

“What the fuck, Altaïr?” Ezio exclaimed, sitting up and by doing so removing the covers. He shivered before sitting up as well, he didn’t really wanna be between Altaïr and Ezio when they were arguing. It always made him feel uneasy.

“You were using Desmond as a hugging pillow.” Altaïr said, reaching for the covers. The soft fabric was placed in each of his shoulders so he wouldn’t get cold. Ezio was looking at Altaïr with a cold stare, daring him to a fight. 

“Please don’t fight.” He whispered, hanging his head low. He felt tears press on. He didn’t wanna cry just because they fought. It seemed to soften them both. Altaïr put his book away and Ezio took his hands in his own. 

“Sorry, love.” Ezio whispered as he placed a kiss on his chin. “Don’t cry, I hate it when you cry. It always makes me feel like I did something wrong.” He felt Altaïr give Ezio a glare as Ezio gave him another kiss on the cheek in comfort. 

“Is there anything we can do for you?” Altaïr asked as he placed a hand around Desmond’s shoulders.

“I could just use a hug.” He whispered, and was immediately embraced by Altaïr. It was rare for Altaïr to give a hug, so he just sat there with closed eyes as he let it happen. Suddenly his whole body seemed to burn. It hurt everywhere where they were touching him. He began to wriggle to get out of their hold. Altaïr quickly let go and grabbed Ezio’s hands to remove them. They looked at him, like he had caught on fire. Finding his clothes, he left the room as fast as he could. He didn’t know where he was going, he just needed to stop the burning he felt under his skin. Running all the way out of Masyaf and into the wild, it was only when he stopped running that he noticed Altaïr and Ezio behind him.

“Desmond?” Ezio asked, taking a cautious step towards him.

“I’m burning up from the inside. My skin, it’s on fire and I can’t put it out.” He cried out, tears falling down from his cheeks as the fire beneath his skin became worse. 

“Come.” Altaïr said, reaching out a hand to him. Following Ezio and Altaïr to a hidden lake, Altaïr gestured for him to go take a swim. Not caring about his clothes getting wet, he walked into the lake. He felt the fire under his skin begin to calm and when he went completely under, the fire burned out. He stayed under the water for as long as he could hold his breath before he had to come back up for air. Altaïr was standing with his arms folded over his chest, a rare smile having formed on his lips. Ezio was squatting and gave him a huge grin. Ezio looked up at Altaïr before standing up and undressing. A moment later and Ezio was splashing water and he began laughing. 

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh.” Ezio gave him a warm smile as he stopped splashing water on Desmond. 

“Come back out of the water.” Altaïr called as Malik joined him. 

“You go first, I still need to cool down a bit.” He said, giving Ezio a light push towards the shore. The water was cooling him down alright. But there was no saying what would happen if he got out. What if the burning started again. What if it was even worse than before. Looking up at Ezio accepting some dry clothes from Malik, he decided to take his chance with the fire under his skin. Ducking his head under the water one last time, he too left the water. When he got out, the wind was cold and he gladly accepted a set of dry clothes from Malik. 

Arriving back in Masyaf, he began feeling faint and would have hit his head if Altaïr hadn’t caught him. It was like his whole being was trying to reject something, or someone. He knew Altaïr still had the apple, but how could it still mess with him. He hadn’t even been in contact with it. Being carried by Altaïr in a state of almost unconsciousness, he could feel his arm burning. Ezio held on to his hand and Malik was talking fast with Altaïr. He felt Altaïr stop in his tracks and the world around him felt heavy. He heard Ezio say something, and then they were moving again. Opening his eyes as best as he could, he recognized the buildings of Florence. Where were Ezio leading them? What had happened? Why weren’t they in Masyaf anymore? Why wasn’t his arm burning anymore? Ezio’s banging on a door cut right through to him and almost gave him a headache. He heard voices, one of them belonging to Ezio, and then they were moving again. He heard someone call out his name, felt a gentle hand on his forehead cooling him down. And then everything went white.

He woke up to a white room, in front of him was a simple table, and a chair. Blinking, Malik was suddenly sitting in the chair. Blinking again, Malik was replaced by Leonardo. When he blinked again, a little boy sat in the chair, looking at him with a smile. 

“You don't think it’s a bit... much?” The little boy asked, suddenly standing right in front of him, the chair and table gone. 

“What is?” He asked, looking at the little boy. 

“All this... lying.” The little boy had gotten older, more defined in his appearance.

“I’m not lying.” He defended.

“If you don’t want to talk about what happened, then say so. Don’t just lie and say it's fine.” The boy said with an accusing voice. 

“Don’t patronize me for something you were too scared to do!!” He shouted at the boy, who was now a man. 

“Don’t you remember, you weren’t there when I needed you most!!” The man shouted back at him with his own voice, making him cover his ears.

“No.” He whispered, whimpering a little.

“This, is all your fault!! Say it!!!!” The man shouted, sounding more like his father. 

“I don’t owe you an explanation, I don’t owe you anything!!!” He shouted at the man who sounded like his father. When he looked back up, the man was a child again. A woman came up to the boy, reaching out for him. 

“Time to go, Desmond.” She said with a smile towards the boy. The boy looked at him as he took his mother's hand. 

“Mom!!!” He shouted, making the woman look at him.

“Yes?” She asked standing still with his hand in hers, the little boy not there anymore.

“I’m sorry.” He said, tears streaming down his face as he began sobbing. “I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t save them.” 

“It’s alright, you are not alone anymore.” She said, letting go of his hand and leaving with the little boy who had appeared once again. 

“But I feel alone.” He whispered to himself as the woman and boy disappeared. “I fucked up, alright? I’m sorry.” The room turned dark and he opened his eyes to find himself being cradled by Ezio. The man was asleep, and looking around the room he found Altaïr and Malik discussing something in whispered voices and Leonardo working on some contraption. Reaching up, he let his fingers comb through Ezio’s hair as the man slowly woke up from the movements.

“Hey there, love.” Ezio whispered, sleep slurring his words a bit.

“You know, your hair is so soft.” He whispered, giving the older man a kiss on the forehead. 

“I love you Desmond.” Ezio whispered, giving him a kiss on the lips before sitting up and pulling him up as well. Altaïr and Malik came over, both sitting on the bed with them. 

“Hey there Desmond.” Altaïr whispered, carefully placing a hand on his cheek.

“Can you just... give me a hug?” He asked in a whisper, looking Altaïr in the eyes. Altaïr made a hint of a smile before pulling him into a tight embrace.

“I’m so glad you’re awake.” Altaïr whispered so only Desmond could hear. 

“Don’t hog him all to yourself!” Ezio whined, hugging both of them.

“Says the man who volunteered to be a mattress.” Malik said dryly with a snort.

“Where are we?” He asked looking around the room after Altaïr had wrestled them free from Ezio.

“In Leonardo’s workshop.” Ezio said, grabbing him from behind and pulling him close.

“Put some clothes on, for the love of God!” Altaïr said, taking a pillow and hitting Ezio with it before leaving the bed, that was actually a couch. He couldn’t help but laugh, throwing his arms around Ezio to kiss the man before leaving to get dressed. 

_“There’s always somewhere for me to be, and that somewhere is with them.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far... I have no idea where this is taking us, but it's taking us somewhere I think.
> 
> Please, leave a coment with your thoughts on this. It makes me happy to know what you guys think of my random writing.


	7. I Will Do Anything For Yor Love

**_Chapter 7 - I Will Do Anything For Your Love_ **

It had been several days since he last felt faint, this time he was alone as Altaïr and Ezio both had something they needed to do for the Brotherhood. He stumbled through the streets, probably looking like a drunk. He didn't care much, he just needed to go somewhere without any people. He found himself alone as he turned to go down a set of stairs, at which point he almost fell and broke his nose if someone hadn't caught him. He looked up and saw a familiar face smiling at him with worry.

"Desmond, are you alright? Leonardo grew worried when you didn't return." It was one of the courtesans who liked him and always reported the strangest gossip to him, not that he minded as it kept him up to date with the latest gossip among the courtesans about him. 

"Dallia. Sorry, I'm not worth much at the moment." He said, sounding a bit off.

"Lean on me Desmond, I'll get you back to Leonardo so he'll stop worrying." Dallia said and helped him lean on her. 

"Dallia, Desmond!" A familiar voice shouted at them, and suddenly he felt his other arm being hoisted up as Claudia rushed over to help.

"Found him almost falling face first, he could have broken his nose." 

"Ezio would murder someone if Desmond got hurt, not to mention what Altaïr would do." Claudia said with a sigh. 

"They are not... My bodyguards..." He said through a hazy mind. Once they got back to Leonardo's, he was able to walk on his own. His mind was still a little foggy, but otherwise he was fine. Or not. The moment he opened the door to the room he, Ezio and Altaïr had been given, Ezio slammed the door behind him and Altaïr grabbed his hand and drew him into an embrace. He had been completely disoriented by the door closing and by being held close by Altaïr. 

"From now on, you never go anywhere alone." Ezio whispered, embracing him and Altaïr.

"Not even the bathroom?" He asked jokingly, making the two men chuckle, sending shivers down his whole body. 

"Not even the bathroom." Altaïr said, a bit of laughter still in his voice. 

“You’re no fun.” He mumbled against Altaïr’s chest, closing his eyes as Ezio gently picked him up and put him to bed.

“Get some proper rest, love.” Ezio whispered, placing a kiss on his forehead and pulling the covers over him. 

Waking up, he found himself in another room, a thick layer of dust covering everything. He stood, and felt as light as air. Looking down at himself, he couldn’t help but notice that he was see-through. Somehow, he felt more at home now than when he had had a physical body. A glow came from somewhere, and he followed it. 

On a dusty old table, covered in a white cloth, stood a box. The box was made of wood, and had scripture written along the edge of the lid. It wasn’t written in any language he knew, but somehow he knew what it said. What made him furrow how brow, was the symbols carved on the wooden box. Right in the middle of the lid, someone had carved the Assassin and Templar symbols on top of each other. As if they were one and the same. Assassins and Templars. 

_ Finally, brothers, rejoice. _

_ Aim for restoration, _

_ comfort one another, _

_ agree with one another, _

_ live in peace; and the _

_ God of Love and Peace _

_ Will be with you. _

He caressed the scripture with the tip of his fingers whispering the words in a language he didn’t remember knowing. The lid made a small  _ pop _ sound, and he was able to open the box. On the inside of the lid, another scripture was ridden, this time in english.

_ May mercy, peace, and love be multiplied to you. _

Small initials were carved in the top left corner, E.A. and a single A. With gentle fingers, he caressed the initials and felt tears sting in his eyes. It hadn’t been the box that glowed, but what the box contained. The Apple Of Eden. On top of it was placed a handwritten note.

_ You may not be interested in war, but war is interested in you. _

He picked up the note and turned it over to see if there was more, and there was. It didn’t feel all that personal. Not like the first one.

_ Death is the only God who comes when you call _

Which wasn’t entirely true. He had died, and then he had lived. Pocketing the note for now, he turned his attention back to the Apple in front of him. 

“Never trust a survivor until you find out what they did to survive. That’s what I tell myself, Desmond. But you. I can’t for the eternity of me, figure you out.” A voice, obscured by a mask the man was wearing, said from right behind him. He turned and looked at the man, closing the box to hide the Apple. 

“What?” He asked, looking puzzled at the masked man.

“You know... They’re going to use things you love against you.”

“Who  _ are  _ you?” 

“My name is Ezra. And you, Desmond Miles, were supposed to be dead.” Ezra shook his head.

“I know. So why aren’t I?” He asked, trying to figure out the man’s motives. 

“Their love for you kept you alive. Now isn’t that a funny thing.” Ezra began walking around the table and stopped on the oppisode side. 

“What?” He asked, following Ezra with his whole body.

“Did you know, they stayed with you. One you were in there.” Ezra pointed to his head. “ They never really left.  _ Love conquers all _ they say. A love, held on to, through time itself, kept you alive and brought you back to them. Oh Desmond, not all heroes can be angels.”

“What do you want?” He asked, placing a hand on the box.

“Relax. I’m not after the Apple. I am, after all, the creator of those things.” Ezra said, motioning towards the box. 

“What? I thought it was the Isu who made them.”

“Wrong, my dear Desmond. I did. As I created  _ them _ . I gave them the idea, the means, to make all the artifacts.”

“What are you?” He whispered in disbelief.

“Not someone you would want to mess with.” Ezra whispered back, a small hissing in his words.

“What do you want?” He asked again.

“I’m here to bring you back, with the box and all. But you’ll have to do something for me in return.” He could practically  _ hear _ Ezra smiling. 

“What?”

“Do you love them?” This took him by surprise.

“Wha... Yes. Of course I do.”

“Good.” Ezra said, snapping his fingers.”The world is full of monsters with friendly faces, it’s up to you to find them Desmond.” And with the, Ezra was gone and he was back in the bad with the box in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't as heartbreaking as some of the first.  
> Meet Ezra. He's an OC from a book I'm writing.
> 
> Scriptures, as shown where I found them  
> \- 2 corinthians 13:11  
> \- Jude 1:2


End file.
